The Curse of Tuesdays And Thursdays.

Seriously? Getting beyond a joke.

As you know, I supposedly have two days a week childfree in which to work. And if you've been round here for a while, you'll be aware that when shit happens at chez Flinthart, it mysteriously seems to happen on a Tuesday or a Thursday.

Let's take this week, shall we?

On Tuesday, the phone call came at 1000, while I was hard at work. It was the school. The Mau-Mau, it transpired, was poorly. Now, I knew she'd grabbed a wasp the day before and suffered a sting as a result. And indeed, her hand was swollen. But she was in pretty good shape when she left -- so what was the matter, exactly?

Oh, well... she complained of a sore tummy. And her hand looked swollen. And maybe she had a fever.

Now, I don't blame the school or the teacher. You don't take chances with a four-year-old, and the Mau-Mau can really turn on the whingery when she wants. Sure as shit I wouldn't want her in my class when she was really having a whine. So I sighed, and I went and collected her.

Well, the 'sore tummy' vanished at the offer of a bag of cheez and bacon balls (a luridly awful food habit she learned from, and shares with, her mother). And her general malaise disappeared the moment a Godzilla movie came into the discussions. And the swollen hand? Well, yeah. It was still swollen. And hot to touch, yep.

But you couldn't really call her sick.

So, I had her underfoot for Tuesday.

Now let's talk Thursday. On Thursday. the phone call came at 0930. Elder Son had to play his cello at an Anzac Day assembly at school... and he'd forgotten his bow, hadn't he?

Up to that point, I'd been studiously trying to avoid that assembly. I'm all for Elder Son and his music, but school assemblies do very little for me. Natalie, on the other hand, pines furiously for them. She speaks lyrically of her terrible disappointment at missing the performances her little dears put on, and sighs loudly, and says very pointed things like "Well, I'd just love to go if only I could!"

So there is, in fact, a certain pressure on me to attend. Even though I do rather feel like missing the little dears' performances is not unlike missing a prolonged bludgeoning. But this time I was determined to ignore Natalie's pointed hints -- until that phone call.

And so I got the bow to the school by 1000 so the practice could occur. Then I did the grocery shopping. Then at 1100 I attended the assembly. I did cheat, and leave as soon as Elder Son's class finished their gig, I admit. But by then, there were only two and a half hours left before I had to collect the kids again, and get them home, then suit them up for Scouts, etc.

So it goes.

Now I know next Thursday is Targa -- the yearly race that zooms past our door, and shuts our road down from 0715 onwards for some hours. So the kids'll be here for that. Yep. But so far, Tuesday has nothing painted on it -- except a big bullseye target.


Makes me wonder what will happen this time!